


Destroyed

by TheRealRuney



Category: Inazuma Eleven
Genre: All I Write is Drabbles Nowadays, Angst, Drabble, Guilt, M/M, Mild FuSaku, Sad Ending, Someone stop me, This wasn’t what I intended to end up with but oh well, slightly canon divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 10:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14399919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealRuney/pseuds/TheRealRuney
Summary: If it hadn’t been for Fudou, none of this would have happened. If it hadn’t been for him, Sakuma wouldn’t be laying on the ground right now.Drabble. Sad ending for SaltyCandy.





	Destroyed

How long it lasted-of that, he was unsure. He just remembered it. As soon as he’d put the stone around his neck, he felt the power. Felt it course through his body. Felt it thrumming in his veins. Simply _felt_. The power went to his head-literally.

Vague, abstract voices in the back of his mind told him that the decisions he was making were drastic, that the lengths they were going to were too much, that maybe all of this was a bad idea, that he was actually acting crazy, that maybe he shouldn’t have joined up with Kageyama-but he waved them all away as quickly as they formed.

The most sickening part of it all was that he _knew_ , and didn’t _care_. He knew, he felt, he believed that something was wrong with him, that all of this was insane, that this was too dangerous, that the power was too much, that it wasn’t even real power. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care about any of that. He finally had so much power in his grasp, he was finally strong, _stronger than his father._

So he lived on in that spell, that haze. He lived the life of a demon. Never caring, never doubting, never faltering.

It’s strange how sometimes people can sleep through the loudest noises.

For Fudou, all it took was the thud of Sakuma falling to the ground to wake him up.

He stared at him, laying on the field. The thud of the fall and the clomping footsteps of the others echoed in his ears. Everything was a blur; the swarms of people moving around him were a haze. All he could see was Sakuma, in Genda’s arms, broken. Slowly, so slowly it must have been an eternity, he turned his head to make eye contact with Fudou across the field. His expression shifted.

And then at once, everything caught up to him. All of his doubts that he pushed away, all of the logical thought he’d buried within him, all of the horrible things he’d done-

And he _ran_. He ran far, far from his guilt. He ran from the sinking ship, from the police, from Kageyama, from Kidou, from Genda, from broken Sakuma.

He remembered Sakuma sitting in the hospital bed. Hurt, helpless, and weak-but recovering. He would’ve healed. He would’ve been able to play soccer again, in time. He knew this; there was a fire in his eyes that Fudou took note of. The fire left as soon as Sakuma had accepted the stone, though. It was replaced with something cold. ‘Did that also happen to me?’ Fudou wondered.

But now...

Sakuma’s eyes after he fell to the ground haunted Fudou’s memory. The tiniest spark of relief swept through him when he saw that the cold was gone-but overpowering dread filled him when he noticed that the fire hadn’t returned either. Fudou couldn’t stop thinking of Sakuma’s expression.

Sakuma had a chance to recover. He had a chance to emerge stronger than he had before-with real power, not some stupid stone-and that had been taken from him. Why didn’t Fudou stop him from using that hissatsu? Now Sakuma could never play soccer again.

And it was all Fudou’s fault.

Yes. If he hadn’t dragged him out of that hospital bed, he wouldn’t have become consumed by the power, or become dangerously self-sacrificing, or returned to Kageyama of all people, or pushed himself so much that he ended up destroying himself. He would have been able to recover naturally. He wouldn’t have had to deal with Teikoku all over again.

He would have been able to continue playing soccer.

He would still have that fire in his eyes.

He wouldn’t have destroyed himself-no,  _Fudou_ destroyed _him_.

Fudou destroyed him.

Finally, Fudou stopped running. He put his back against a wall, slid down, and buried his face in his knees. And, for the first time in his life, Fudou Akio began to cry.


End file.
